


In Time of Need

by flinchflower, nubianamy



Series: Donutverse 50 Kinky Ways [17]
Category: Glee
Genre: Discipline, Donutverse, M/M, Multi, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 15:55:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1824019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nubianamy/pseuds/nubianamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on a date with Emma Pillsbury, Carl Howell is called away by Tess Riordan to deal with Puck, who is in need of a spanking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Time of Need

**Author's Note:**

> This scene follows from chapter 34 in Fingers of Your Fire, after Tess and Puck have a phone conversation which leaves her convinced that Puck needs a spanking. She calls Carl Howell to handle it for her. Discipline only, no sex. This scene was cowritten with flinchflower.   
> -amy

 

Carl opened his menu, smiling across the table at Emma. She smiled back, her face pink. She was the very picture of subservience, but he thought he knew her well enough now to be able to tell the difference between resistance and submission. It would take a little time to be certain which one this was, but he was willing to be patient.

He was about to offer her a glass of wine when his phone vibrated in a familiar pattern. Carl frowned, glancing down at it.  _Tess._

"I'll be right back," he told the girl, noting the look of relief. She hadn't noticed his phone. Perhaps she thought he was being a gentleman and giving her space by excusing himself. He retreated to the quiet corner near the men's room and answered the call.

"Tess," he said urgently. "I'm not exactly -"

"Noah is in need, and you will do  _exactly_  as I say, please," came her calm tones over the phone.

"I can't, Tess," he said. He took a deep breath, feeling proud of himself for standing up for himself, and repeated, "I can't. Emma and I are on a date, and -"

"Carl Jesse  _Howell_."

"Tess?" He hated that his breath squeaked on her name.

"We had this conversation last week. I want you to ask yourself, right now: is she  _really_  ready for what you are attempting to introduce?"

Carl felt a shock ring through his system, looking in his mind's eye at the image of Emma, her inadequate response, and the sudden certainty that Emma was afraid to submit. And yet, if he handled this right….

"Give me ten minutes, please, T- ma'am," he amended, putting his phone away as he returned swiftly to his table. He caught the waiter on the way and taking care of the check. He wasn't worried anymore; his brain had switched over to being entirely concerned about Emma and her needs.

Now he could see her fear clearly in her expression, her demeanor. He took his seat across from her, not reaching for her hand, but resting his own within touching distance. The fact that she did not immediately reach for him, that told him volumes. He gave her a gentle smile.

"Emma," he said, "You've had a salad and tea, and I'm pleased with that, that's excellent progress since our last meeting. We're not going to do any more today."

"Oh." She looked more relieved than worried. "I - okay."

"It's fine," he assured her. "You didn't do anything wrong. I'll take you home, and then you'll be free to relax on your own, in any of the ways we discussed. All right? Make it a good night."

He ushered her out to the Corvette, and within minutes she was smiling and waving farewell as she unlocked the door to her house. Then he picked up his phone, took a deep breath, and dialed.

"Okay," he said.

"You will get your sorry ass back to the apartment next to your office,  _right now_ ," Tess barked, making him flinch. "And you, as a facet of the responsibility that led you to offer that apartment to young Noah, will go into that apartment, and you will spank that little boy. Do you understand me?"

Jesse gasped. "Tess, I - I was in the middle of-"

"Trust me, boy," came her calm voice, with which he was so familiar, "when I tell you that this need is a greater need."

"We  _really_  don't have a good history," he tried, but that wasn't really true anymore either. He and Puck had resolved their differences months ago, and considering the way things had gone that weekend at Tessera, they'd established an entirely new set of parameters by which to interact.

"That boy is in active crisis," Tess was saying. "Do you understand me?"

That was crystal clear. An active crisis always took precedence over training - which, he had to admit to himself, had been underlying his intention behind having Emma out on a date.

"Yes, ma'am," he said promptly. "What action do you need?"

"Good boy," she praised.

He was shocked at the rush of pleasure that shot through him, even after remaining at Tessera with her for an extra day, and feeling as if he had everything he needed. It was a good thing he was idling at the light.

'Young master Noah needs a spanking," Tess said, and Jesse could hear the measured seriousness of her tone, that belied deeper and more dire issues. "He doesn't need to be tanned within an inch of his life, my dear. He needs to be spanked lightly, until he lets go - and that could take quite some time."

"Tess," Carl said heavily. It was asking a great deal, a spanking like that. Something like that, it built rapport and trust, and -

"I do not ask lightly," she went on. "He is in need, and I cannot be there quick enough. There is no one else, Jesse, darling. Will you do this?"

Carl choked at the emotion that this prompted. "I will. I promise. I'm… I'll be there in less than five minutes. How long has he been in the corner?"

"If you're five minutes away, he'll have been there just over a half hour when you arrive. An appropriate doubling of his age. It'll be fine. I'll remain on the line, should either of you need support."

"Tess," he said suddenly. "If he has needs beyond -"

"I will remain on the line," she said, with infinite patience. "If it comes to that, I'll support you in finding what he needs - likely Kurt, and if you're there to take him to Kurt if need be. Right now, you know what he needs."

Carl approached the door to Puck's apartment with a certain amount of trepidation, but he'd heard Tess' voice. She didn't make requests like this lightly. He wasn't Puck's Top, and neither was she - but apparently she felt enough ownership over him herself to employ Carl's services anyway. Regardless, Carl wasn't going to let her down.

He used his own key to let himself into the apartment, bypassing the intercom system. Puck would, hopefully, be following Tess' orders to stay in the corner.

He heard Tess' voice on speakerphone as he stepped inside, locking the door behind himself.  _"No, Noah, stay put."_

"But there's someone -"

" _At my request, Noah."_

The silence went on. Carl called softly, "It's me, Puck. It's Carl. I'm just... I'm coming in now. Don't worry."

He heard Puck's exhalation, and as he rounded the corner into the sitting room, immediately noticed that Puck had shaved off his mohawk.  _Wow,_  he thought,  _I wonder who managed to get him to do that?_

The second thing he noticed was the way Puck was struggling to hold his position. The boy was standing in the corner, pants around his ankles, and Carl smiled at the familiarity of the pose, one of Tess' favorites.

He went straight to the boy, laying a hand on Puck's shoulder, pleased that he didn't jump or startle. "Let's get you out of those pants, so you don't trip. Then you're coming with me to the couch, and you're going to go straight over my knee. Do you understand?"

Puck had clearly already dropped into subspace, but he nodded, his breathing even.

"Good boy. Step out of those pants, and put them over the back of this chair. I'm going to step into the kitchen while you do that, and get a glass of water for you, and then we'll go and take care of this."

He was pleased to see that the boy obeyed quietly. He thought that Puck would need the water, and before the spanking, too. He opened the kitchen utensil drawer, impressed at the way it was well-ordered, the wooden and bamboo instruments nicely oiled and laid neatly out. Carl chose a pleasantly wide wooden spoon, the surface timeworn and smooth, and laid that on the coffee table, along with two glasses and a pitcher of water. He dampened a washcloth and laid it in a shallow bowl atop a few ice cubes, and set a towel on the tray as well.

Puck was standing bare and orderly in the corner, his shirt just brushing the tops of his buttocks, the jeans in place as Carl had asked. An excellent beginning, and Carl felt settled by the order, and the familiarity of the apartment, and the stillness of the boy. He was breathing marginally faster, a little anxious, but Carl was certain he would be able to assuage that anxiety. He set the tray down, the towel covering the bowl and the wooden spoon.

Carl set his hand hand on Puck's shoulder a second time, squeezing lightly. "Good boy. Now, turn with me, and we'll go to the couch. Do you understand?"

"Uh-huh," Puck mumbled.

Carl reached down, and swatted very lightly, cupping his hand so that the sound echoed. Puck made a wordless exclamation. "I beg your pardon?"

"Uh... yes?"

Carl smiled, and swatted the other cheek. "Take it a little further than that, please." He lowered his voice, keeping it gentle. "Tess is here, too."

"Yes, sir," Puck said, a shiver running through him.

Carl smoothed his hand down the boy's muscled back, feeling the hot worry in the tension of the muscles, and let his hand come to rest in the small of Puck's spine, guiding him. Once they reached the couch, he readied himself to sit.

"Look at me," he commanded, as he turned the boy toward him. Wide eyes glanced up at him, and Carl seated himself, taking a firm grip on Puck's arm. "Very good, Puck. I understand you need a spanking."

"Yeah - uh, yes - sir," Puck said, his voice subdued.

"Thank you. I appreciate the respect. Over my knee, now. You'll rest your arms on the couch. Very good," he praised, as the boy complied, and he could feel the dichotomy of relaxation, yet increasing tension as Puck got himself into what must now be a familiar position. He knew it well himself: comforting, but rife with anticipation of what was to come.

Carl ran his hand down Puck's back again, and then placed his palm on the muscled bottom over his knee. It was impossible not to admire it, but he kept it clinical, professional. There were some fresh lash marks on his back, not red, but present, perhaps from earlier that day. He was surprised to see only faint bruising remaining from the heavy workover they'd given him on the St. Andrew's cross on Saturday.

"You'll stay where I put you, Puck. If you struggle, I'll restrain you. Tell me your safeword, please."

Puck moved restlessly on his leg. "Red, I guess."

" _Red._  You're going to use that word if you need me to stop, for any reason, no matter how silly it might seem. That is not a promise that your spanking will end, if it is used, but we will stop until you're ready to continue. Tess is right here, Puck, okay? If you need either of us, for any reason, say my name or hers. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir."

"A spanking for you, then," Carl said, almost wryly. He stiffened his wrist, landing the first pair of slaps. Puck remained tense throughout the first several minutes, but Carl hadn't expected anything less. He wished that he had something to say to the boy, but if Tess had needed Carl to know his concerns, she'd have shared them. At the very least, he was able to keep a clearer mind, to focus on the boy's reactions, and encourage the release that he could see the boy needed. It was enough that he was able to assist in resolving the crisis that Tess had identified, even hundreds of miles away on a cell connection.

He varied the tempo and and sharpness of the slaps, watching the tension in the boy's back and legs, increasing both until the boy let out an involuntary whimper, shifting forward on Carl's lap. Carl wrapped his free hand firmly around Puck's hip, keeping him safely in place, and lowered his target range, catching the underside of Puck's bottom, and beginning to pepper muscled thighs with spanks. The noises from the boy and the squirming increased, until he got a full yelp as he caught a particularly red spot on Puck's left buttock.

"That's right, my boy. There's no need to be silent, or still. You're all right, and you're going to feel a great deal better when we're through here." He sat back, holding him firmly. "But we're nowhere near that."

It was not really a question, nor did Carl expect an answer, but he did see the boy shake his head,  _no,_  very slightly, and he smiled. He continued to spank, focusing in on making the swats sharper and faster, coming in groups and varied in placement. As he'd expected, Puck bucked and tried to move, and Carl he easily pinned the boy's legs with one of his own. It was then that he reached for the wooden spoon.

Puck gasped as the spoon fell, his head coming up in alarm, and the boy managed to turn just enough to look. Carl wouldn't normally tolerate movement like this, but it wouldn't be very much longer, and the boy would be entirely focused on the sensation of the spanking. The spoon had a comfortably thick handle to it, and it was easy to grip. Carl moved on to focusing his target repeatedly on a single spot, intensifying the crimson blotch until Puck cried out, and then moving on again to another choice target.

It wasn't as though he hadn't done this hundreds of times before, on dozens of men and women - and yet the contrast between Puck's response and the one he'd received from Emma in his own office on Tuesday was fresh in his mind. It was clear as day which of them was ready for such treatment. He knew Puck's limits fairly well by now, from watching him with Adam and Finn and Kurt, and from their own encounters together, but it would be careful work to move him fully from guilt to submission.

There were several areas of beautiful crimson splotches on Puck's backside from the repeated treatment with the spoon, his wrist working nicely to sharpen the swats without adding any force. As he began to ensure that he got into the spaces between the splotches, where the edges overlapped, Puck's movements and cries began to sound desperate. Carl shifted his voice to a more gentle, cajoling tone.

"That's just right, Puck. You let it go, Puck. Let all of that out. There's nothing wrong with it, Tess and I expect it." He watched as the whole bottom became an even, glowing red, and then he set the spoon aside. He ran his hand over Puck's heated bottom, appreciating the heat there, but he was not yet done. The boy was not in tears, and he needed to be.

Carl sighed, ignoring Puck's averted gaze, and reached down to Puck's hands, which had been clenched into fists. "Lay your hands flat on the couch, Puck. C'mon, that's it. And if you're tempted to reach back - don't do it, Puck. I'll swat your hands if you do that, understand?"

Puck nodded, apparently beyond words, which was good. Carl nodded to himself, and then out of nowhere landed one shocking smack on Puck's bottom. It went through the boy like electricity, stiffening him.

"There we are," he murmured. "Glad to have your attention. I'm going to keep going, Puck. We're not even close, are we."

He saw the boy's head turn slightly. Carl smiled gently, and landed another two of those smacks, gratified to see Puck's eyes go saucer-wide on the first. He watched the boy attempt to manage the electrifying sting by not breathing.

Carl's left hand was still firm on Puck's hip, holding him in place. He patted it gently as Puck shifted, while Carl slowly settled himself back further on the couch and pulled Puck along with himself.

He restrained the alarmed motion easily, landing a handful of much lighter swats, and continuing with the easy spanks as Puck's expression grew more and more panicked.

The boy bucked as he clipped that sore spot again, and Carl shook his head. "None of that now, Puck," he said, almost smiling. "We're going to take care of this. I don't need to stop to get the cuffs, do I?"

"I won't move," Puck promised desperately.

"Of course you won't," Carl said, without thinking. "You're a good boy. Good boys  _need_ spankings. It's just got to be done the right way." He landed another few swats, appreciative of Puck's stillness, interrupted only by his shivers of reaction. The boy was struggling to keep his hands flat as well - so far, additional swats had the boy nearly reaching back, but continuing to return the flat of his palm to the surface of the couch, each time.

However, it was perhaps time to curb that. "Puck, keep your palms on that couch," he said, delivering another pair of tremendous swats that got a thorough yell out of the boy.

"You don't know I'm good."

Carl was raising his hand for another swat - and he paused, his hand in midair. Later, he would not be certain of what stopped him, if it were a sound from Tess, a prompt from his own memory, or some motion of Puck's.

His hand fell, not on Puck's bottom, but very carefully on the small of the boy's back.

"You _are_  a good boy. You are not bad, Puck. You are a good boy." Absolutely, after taking a spanking of that intensity - and Carl still wasn't certain as to whether or not they were finished.

"How do you  _know?_ "

" _Noah."_  Even Carl looked up at the sound of Tess' voice.

"But he doesn't know!" he shouted. "Nobody knows if I'm going to be good enough. Not to - to be a papa."

In his mind, in the incredulous silence that followed, Carl imagined himself exchanging a long, slow, look with Tess.

He leaned forward, stroking a hand down the soft strip of fuzz, where the peacocking mohawk had once lived, to get a hand around the back of Puck's neck, listening to the whimper.

"Puck. Kneel." He moved his hand to slip under the boy's hands - still flat on the couch - and lifted up just a little.

Whimpering, Puck slid to his knees. Carl rested his hand atop the boy's head for a long moment.

"Where is your collar?" he asked gently.

"Drawer. Bedroom." The tears were starting down Puck's face, and Carl had never felt more unsure in his life - but he knew what he needed to do.

"Stay." There was the hint of a nod from the boy, and Carl strode back, yanking the nightstand open, to snatch out a plain leather collar.  _Dammit._ It wasn't the same as the one he wore at Tessera, when he'd had Puck on the St. Andrew's cross. He would have to hope that it wasn't a special collar - as plain as it was, he doubted it. He returned to Puck's side.

"Hands," he commanded, and for just a moment, he saw a flash of Emma, kneeling before him, in the place that Puck occupied now. He calmly let the moment of Puck's panic pass, and the boy held out his hands, palm up, reddened eyes, still leaking tears, staring up at Carl.

"Good boy." He laid the leather in Puck's hands, going to one knee in front of the boy. "Show me what you need."

Puck shuddered, his whole body. Then those hands brought the collar up to his throat, head bowed, and stopped, canting his head slightly so that Carl could see that the collar was unbuckled.

"Good boy," he praised again. "Puck, I will buckle  _your_  collar," he said, stressing the word. "Once your collar is buckled, I want you to take a deep breath, and look up at me." He didn't ask if the boy understood. He didn't need to.

The boy bowed his head a fraction more, and Carl reached to fasten the buckle on the plain black leather collar, letting his hand rest below the band of leather. Puck drew in a shaky breath and looked up, his eyes dilated and starry with tears.

"You are a good boy, Puck. You needed a spanking, didn't you." He watched the boy nod mutely. "And I know we're not done just yet." Carl looked at the boy, who shivered again, and noted the rustling sound that likely meant that Tess was trying to repress voicing an objection. He was determined that she would not need to worry.

"Yes, sir," Puck whispered.

"Very good, Puck. We are going to finish your spanking, Puck. How old are you?"

He sniffed. "Sixteen."

"Thank you. Over my knee, now," he ordered, and took the boy's hand, when he made an immediate motion forward. "Such a good boy," he praised easily, ignoring the flinch. "Now, do you know why I know you'll be a good papa, too?"

Those hazel eyes came up, startled, but the question came without hesitation. "No?"

"Because I'm a papa. Even when I can't be with my daughter, I'm still loving her, doing all I can for her. You're going to do the same for your daughter, Puck." He patted his back. "Sixteen swats. You're such a good boy, I'll use my hand."

He took his own sweet time, and at the final swat, Puck was sobbing out loud, finally,  _finally_. Carl simply gathered him up, and made a swift move from the couch over to the rocker-recliner, and held the boy close.

It didn't take long, for the noise and storm to abate, for Carl to be left with a limp, punished boy in his arms. He watched Puck's face fondly for a long while, then let his hand creep back to unbuckle the collar. Puck didn't budge.

Carl felt a unique satisfaction steal over him. Tess still hadn't spoken, he could tell from the occasional audio crackle that she was still present. But he'd done exactly as he needed, he was certain.

Puck didn't move even when Carl spoke to him. Nor when Carl carefully stood up with Puck in his arms, walking back to the bedroom with the boy. The covers were a mess, but it made it simple to lay the boy down. He was utterly limp, didn't even roll to take his weight away from his bottom, and Carl draped a light sheet over him. The collar he dropped in the drawer where he'd found it.

There was an empty glass at the bedside, which looked remarkably clean, so Carl simply filled that up in the bathroom, with clean water, and left it, closing the bedroom door behind himself.

"Tess?"

" _Jesse,"_  came her voice over the speaker.

"I'm done here," he said. "I'll set the coffeemaker up, and the alarm clock is still set for school time."

" _And lock the door behind you."_

"And lock the door behind me," he said fondly, feeling the calm weight of his achievement holding him steady. "I'd be happier to speak with you at home than on the road."

" _I'd be happier to have you remain on the line until you_ are _home, Jesse."_

"I've no objections," he said saucily. "You're not too tired?"

" _You dreadful boy,"_  she said, but she was having trouble not laughing, he knew.

"Am I driving straight home, then?"

" _You'd best drive to your own home in Lima, or there will be terrible consequences."_

"I think I can do that," he agreed, feeling curiously light and thankful. "Finn will be coming by later, after he takes care of his own boy."

" _I wonder if you need a spanking, too,"_  she asked dryly, a rhetorical question if he'd ever heard one.

"Of course I do." He settled himself in the driver's seat of his Corvette and turned the key in the ignition. "But more importantly, I need to know if that met your expectations."

" _Jesse,"_  she said firmly, " _you can be certain you followed through admirably. You gave that young man exactly what he needed - and exactly what I told you to. That's more than I could ask of most people."_

Carl knew he had no right to feel as good as he did, not after what had happened with Emma, but he decided not to question it.


End file.
